


Devil May Cry

by toliu



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: BAMF Steve Harrington, Billy Hargrove Has a Crush on Steve Harrington, Bisexual Steve Harrington, Bisexuality, Blood and Gore, Child Abuse, Child Neglect, Horror, Implied/Referenced Cheating (Nancy), Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, M/M, Neil Hargrove Being an Asshole, Neil himself, Past Steve Harrington/Nancy Wheeler, Period Typical Attitudes, Period-Typical Homophobia, Sexual Content, Something is up with Steve, Steve is Assumed Dead, The Upside Down, genius steve harrington, he just plays dumb, mind flayer - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-19
Updated: 2021-03-26
Packaged: 2021-03-27 09:47:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30120891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/toliu/pseuds/toliu
Summary: Billy sometimes hears the name whispered down the halls of Hawkins High School,Steve Harrington.and it's always whispered.Steve Harrington goes missing before senior year in the summer of 1984, no one knows where he is but everyone has their little stories. Then his step-sister gets some new dorkfest group of friends and his walkman keeps switching tracks on him even when nothing is actually in it.Fuck if he knows but this is probably some sick ghost shit.
Relationships: Billy Hargrove & Steve Harrington, Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington, Eleven | Jane Hopper/Mike Wheeler, Jonathan Byers/Nancy Wheeler, Joyce Byers/Jim "Chief" Hopper, Maxine "Max" Mayfield/Lucas Sinclair
Comments: 12
Kudos: 74





	1. Show Me Your Soul

**Author's Note:**

> Set in Season 2 with an altered canonical timeline wherein the summer before his senior year Steve disappears. Foreboding that, yes, I'm being honest with the tags. I'm not going to use heavy homophobic slurs, that's not really my thing but keep in mind that it'll be implied as being used. Too many fics play on Steve being some kind of an idiot and I'm not about to have that happen here, he's still going to flunk (because really in canon I think he barely got by) but this time there will be a reason behind it all. 
> 
> I'll try to put as many warnings on chapters as necessary but keep in mind there are dark themes and gore in some spots, it's not all pretty in Hawkins Indiana after all. There will be some changes to canon but a lot of things will remain the same and the events of season 2 will still go on just with small twists here and there. 
> 
> I'd technically consider this as a character study of Steve and Billy for the sake of canon not explaining a lot about Billy's past and Steve's absent parents. 
> 
> There's no beta so ignore any period inaccuracies. Going into this like men at war.

The first time it happens is when he's hissing over a busted lip and black eye, hissing because his father is drinking his life away and could probably hear him if he isn't quiet enough. Max still isn't back from whatever 'party' shit she keeps mentioning and Billy gets shit for it, the type of shit that lands him close to being in another concussion. Billy snorts, count on Neil Hargrove to get pissed drunk on a Saturday afternoon just cause he can't figure out that his step-daughter has friends. 

Susan is home, of course, not like Neil would let her get out very much in between his drunk morning and night blackouts. Between the heavy-handed punches and pitying stares, Billy doesn't know what's worse. He'd take a swing of alcohol to take the edge off but if he even smelt alcohol he might be sick, it was always like that after he felt Neil's inebriated breath after each pounding. The whole routine to beat him straight was getting old. 

He lets himself catch his breath and steady's his feet onto the surface of his room, he's got one more year till he turns eighteen and what seemed like a lifetime away was so much closer than he could have ever expected. Sometimes he caught himself fluttering on borderline hysteria over the prospect of being free. He's got a good amount of money locked tightly away for safekeeping, so safe that there was no way Neil would find it. Hell if he did he'd probably beat Billy half to death and then spend the money on more booze so he could do it again and again, always making sure that he was within an inch of death but never really there. 

The first time it happens his Walkman isn't too far away from him, and he'd cranked the volume all the way up the last night to drown out Neil so it's not like he has to strain very hard to hear it go off. 

Billy knew Alice Cooper, hell he'd seen Alice Cooper in concert back in California when it was easier to sneak off. That meant he was familiar with all the songs, Steven was familiar. It started in a low hum and then fell into that dramatic cascade of,

"Steven!" 

His hand shot out to grab the walkman, turning the volume down completely to where the noise didn't stream through the headphones. Blood trickled down his lip at the sharp motion, dripping down onto his hands before he tries to smear it away on his clothes. He pauses for a second and takes a hesitant glance at the walkman still in his hand. Billy grasped it on either side, feeling the familiar soft click of the cassette slot opening up before he peered inside. 

His throat closed up. There was nothing inside, of course, there was nothing because he'd removed the cassette last night and stored it away. 

"Steven," He murmured before clenching his fist. 

Without a second of hesitation, he plucked the headphones and shoved them over his ears before ghosting a finger over the volume switch. It was stupid, he thought to himself, he was probably having one of those episodes psych doctors liked to talk about. Something about it, something odd made his final decision and before he could stop himself the volume was turned back up so he could hear if anything was coming from the empty machine. 

"Steven," It trilled on growing quieter, "Is someone calling me? No...Steven?"

The words pulled out of his lips before he even knew it and he was repeating, "Steven?"

"I can hear a voice," Cooper continued and something felt too wrong, too cold in his room even more than it should have since Neil refused to pay the heating, "It's outside the door."

His eyes found his door, where the chill felt the strongest, where it seemed to collapse the room into a state of winter inside. Indiana was cold, sure, but it was only November 1st. When his hand was centimeters from contact with the doorknob the walkman clicked suddenly like it was in a state of panic.

"I was only joking," Rob Stewart harmonized in a series of static notes, "My dear."

His hand snapped away from the frosted handle, the chill receding as quickly as it came. The walkman continued to hum Rob Stewart even when he harshly hit against the pause button, even when he stuck in some random cassette he'd thrown on his floor, kept going until Rob Stewart faded away with, "Quietly now while I turn a page, act one is over without costume change. The principal would like to leave the stage, the crowd don't understand."

It's mental to think about so he doesn't, he chucks the walkman under what shitty pillows he has, and storms out to pick up Max from that zombie boy's house. His Camaro kicks up, the engine not used to the cold weather before it starts to work like usual. He's half out of their small driveway, cassette case clasped between his teeth, one hand on the wheel and the other ready to pop a Guns n' Roses album in before that same shit starts up again. His car doesn't go cold, his heater working better than anything in Neil's beat-up house. 

He hissed kicking against the gas a bit more than he should have and shoved the album in regardless, "Fucking hell." 

Wham!'s 'Wake me up before you go-go' blared from his speakers, it was so sudden that Billy's car veered off the road just slightly before he controlled it back. 

"I'm gonna fucking―" He sucked in a breath ignoring the loud honk behind him, "Turn it off you freak, I'm not listening to fucking Wham!"

George Michael and Andrew Ridgeley kept pushing through his stereo, even when he pushed the dial, it was relentless and he was close to throwing himself out of his car before everything stopped. For a minute his car was silent before 'Just the two of us' pulled through the speakers, for some reason he was barking out the first name that appeared in the forefront of his mind.

"Steven!" It switched over to another Wham! song before he was hissing out different things to appease whatever hell he was in, "Stevie?―Fuck man! Steve?"

The Ronettes cooed softly from his speakers, quieter than when Wham! was playing yet still irritating enough to keep him on edge, "So won't you please," Billy caught the familiar look of the Byer's house and breathed out in relief, "Be my baby, say you'll be my darling."

It stopped. Even before he shut the engine off and sat to wait, it suddenly stopped, "Shit, you couldn't do that before?" 

He was probably going crazy, something about bumfuck Hawkin's eating away at any sanity he could have had, or maybe it was the beatings finally impacting his head. Max was skipping out the house, board in hand and the other waving goodbye at a couple of kids piled up at the door. 

Sometimes he forgot how much of a nerd Max was turning into. He snickered quietly to himself and then a little louder for her to be able to hear. 

"Haha," She grumbled jumping into the car, "Real funny Billy."

"Nerd brigade get you busy today?" He cooed in a mocking way knowing that arguments between the two were superficial at best, they relied on each other way too much to actually hate each other. 

"Made me learn D&D, I'm gonna chuck myself off the closest cliff soon," She retorted curling further into herself and down the leather seat. 

He sneered and pushed his key around to start the car again, "Let me know when."

She tosses him a middle finger before tucking her hand under her skateboard, drumming irritatingly along the surface of his car. He doesn't have much time to tell her off before a series of songs rapidly exits from his speakers, it's too quick to find out which songs but before long it settles on a song for longer than a second. 

"Love of my life can't you see, bring it back, bring it back don't take it away from me," He wants to slam his head against his dashboard.

"Is that _Queen?_ " Max muttered out, eyes wide and any drumming she was doing stopped instantly, "You don't listen to Queen, not since Neil called them―"

He ground his teeth together, stopping her before he had to relive the memory, "Keep your mouth shut. The thing is broken so ignore it." 

She looks unsure, but in a breath she keeps quiet. He wouldn't admit to falling into the way Love of my life sounded from his stereo. The pleas of Freddie Mercury filled out in the same way he remembered it had all those years ago, just before he got another straightening out. When the three minutes and thirty-seven seconds came to an end nothing else played. 

Getting home after that isn't terrible, Max keeps quiet and Billy suffers through the empty silence without music to blast out. When they enter Max subconsciously goes in first just like she always seemed to do. They have a small code between them, where Max would keep a hand slightly behind her and tap her index finger and thumb together. She did it. He breathed out knowing for sure that Neil was passed out before ignoring Susan. 

His room isn't cold anymore and for the hour before he settles into bed nothing plays. 

Nothing plays throughout the night. 


	2. Wallflower

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> His mom used to tell him about the way people died, he'd asked after his first dog ended up dead in his backyard. She'd told him between his sobs that the dead will go away to a part of the world no one else could touch, but if they had something to do they'd do their best to connect with the living.

His day, as usual, starts off terribly. November 2nd greets him with a punch in the chest―really that was just Neil deciding he didn't like Billy's answers to the questions he asked. In reality, Neil just doesn't like anything to do with Billy so it wouldn't matter what he responded with, even when he gave the robotic 'yes, sir' at the end of each sentence. 

He doesn't have time to ice the bruise so he has to drive Max over to the middle school with a stiff posture, if he so much as moved his ribs they might decide they'd like to puncture his lung. His car doesn't bother him during that drive, as if annoyingly sympathizing with his state. Max looks over him too much, with that sad look in her eyes that tells him that she's sorry she can't do more for him. He doesn't really bother to get upset with her it's not entirely her fault that Susan kept quiet and married a bastard like Neil. 

By the time she's out of his car and Hawkin's high school turns up Billy's twisted his expression, forgotten the pain, and sauntered out of his Camaro like a man on a mission. He remembers to keep his shoulders square, remembers to look at girls for longer than a couple of seconds to feign interest, and doesn't keep his eyes on any guys other than to give typical greetings. 

Tommy doesn't take long to find him, bounding over like a dog with Carol at his heel. Billy doesn't necessarily hate the two of them, they keep up appearances and that's all he really needs at school. 

"Quit your starin' Carol," Tommy H. snorted out from where he leaned against a locker. 

Carol, who'd been glaring at Nancy Wheeler for a good minute turned and huffed, "She's such a betty, drooling all over Byers like Steve―"

"―Stop talkin' about Steve Carol."

 _Steve_. Billy turned to twist his gaze towards Nancy Wheeler, the only reason he even sort of knew about her was the fact that her brother was one of the losers in Max was around.

"Steve..." Billy trailed off as if encouraging the conversation and Carol picked it back up instantly. 

"Harrington," She finished his sentence and popped a piece of gum lightly. "Steve Harrington, we were best friends you know? Wheeler prances out in her good-girl shit and turns it all around. Suddenly we're dust and he's forking all his attention over to her. Doesn't even care that he's gone, just moved right over to Byers like he was nothing to 'er."

He remembers yesterday, the sound of Steven spilling out of his walkman, "So where is he?"

"Dead."

"Tommy H!" Carol hissed slapping his shoulder harshly, probably digging a manicure into his skin too, "He is not!" She turned to Billy and breathed out, "Been missing, since summer '84―late June."

The conversation turns when Carol watches Tammy Thompson skip down the halls chattering off about graduating and becoming a Hollywood star. He doesn't bother paying attention when Carol starts sneering and rolling her eyes around. 

When school is done and he's waiting off in the parking lot for Max, she doesn't take long to bound over to him. A little ways away he could see that weird friend group of hers nervously glancing anywhere but his Camaro. 

"Is it cool if I go to the arcade?" Max stuck a thumb behind her, "I'll catch a ride, you won't even have to bother."

He flips a cig around his hands, curling it between each digit before sticking it in his mouth. He doesn't light it yet but keeps it in his mouth for familiarity's sake, "What are you gonna do when Neil finds out?"

Max rolls her eyes, "You and I both know he's pissed drunk right now and can't even remember his own name―I'm not worrying."

"Whatever, shitbird."

He made a 'go off' motion before she gave him a crude gesture of 'fuck you' and met up with her friends. He stuck around a bit, watching them walk off before rolling his shoulder back and hissing at the dig in his gut. He rolls his window up and starts to exit the parking lot, not bothering to keep his car quiet, letting it kick and hum as loud as he could. 

He doesn't head home, not unless he has to. Instead, he turns over to Sattler Quarry, pulling his car as close as he could before putting it in park. He doesn't shut the engine so it's no surprise when he hears the familiar clicking of a cassette rolling around even if he hadn't done anything. 

Badfinger. He snorts. 

"Well, I can't forget this evening and your face when you were leaving," He keeps a steady posture but lets his head fall back a little into his seat, "But I guess that's just the way the story goes."

He can't remember the last time he'd listened to Badfinger, it was probably back when his mom was still around and she used to play it to him behind his father's back. He always had the most to say about 'sissy' music. In no time the song was done and his car was shrouded in silence.

"Steve Harrington," He absentmindedly muttered. He remembered that name dancing around the halls of the high school, remembered seeing a photograph where the name 'Steve Harrington' was etched right underneath. 

Something ticked, clicked, and shuffled around before a wiring sound echoed again, "A quiet man of music denied a simpler fate...he earned his love through discipline, a thundering, velvet hand."

"No way." He sneered, "Aint no way this ghost shit has anything to do with Harrington."

"Oh daddy, you know you make me cry," Fleetwood Mac started off slowly.

"You wanna start speaking proper sentences?" He'd humour around with being haunted by a dead man's ghost if it took his mind off his beat-up chest. 

Apparently, they were on a Fleetwood Mac marathon because 'You make loving fun' came on. His face turned into a glare, the quarry was a nice enough sight to take his mind off things but Billy thought about too many things to completely be soothed. Without really thinking it through he wondered how his mom was doing wherever she'd decided to run away to. 

"You―" His car started, "Are―" it kept on, "Right―" before switching back to Alice Cooper, "I hear my name! Steven!"

His mom used to tell him about the way people died, he'd asked after his first dog ended up dead in his backyard. She'd told him between his sobs that the dead will go away to a part of the world no one else could touch, but if they had something to do they'd do their best to connect with the living. He's never met Harrington though, at least he doesn't think he has so why him? He should probably get real, there was no way it was actually real the beatings were probably rattling his brain so much that he was losing it. 

"It's―" He drummed his fingers, "Me!―" He stopped and clenched his fist, "Darling―."

"Okay, I'll bite," He grit out. 

In a millisecond Upside Down by Diana Ross clicks into place, "Upside down! Boy, you turn me inside out, and 'round and 'round."

And then it repeats. 

"Upside down!―Upside down!―Upside down!"

He spends the entire ride home that day listening to Diana Ross repeating robotically, "Upside down!―Upside down!"

When he steps through the threshold of their beatdown house he doesn't have time to shield his face from the first blow, then the next, or the fifth. Neil's yelling something at him, a garble of 'Max' 'fucker' and a fun game of guess the slur tumbling out in between it all. He guesses Max hasn't come home and can't help the hysteria that builds in his chest. His lungs hurt, he's coughing on something coopery and he knows that familiar feeling of choking on your own blood. 

Sometimes Billy wonders if Neil even remembers that he's his son. Sometimes wonders why Susan opens her mouth 'cause nothing ever ends up right when she does. He knows it without having to think very hard, that Susan was the one to question where Max was, there was no way Neil would care when he's half-drunk after all. 

Billy, through all the blood and grime, laughs out a―"Yes, sir."

That night, with his headset over his ears and walkman carefully by his side he listens attentively for anything. 

Always somewhere breaks through the silence, the volume is low enough that it hums but loud enough to clearly hear. He decides to remain still, eyes looking up to the ceiling while the Scorpions began their tune.

"Always somewhere. Miss you where I've been, I'll be back to love you again."

He foolishly thinks of his mother and dreams that, just like Klaus Meine sings out, his mother returns to take him away from it all. The bruises burn but those were only ever surface-level damage. 


	3. Gunpowder

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Clarence Carter's Patches starts back up he's done with everything, cigarette crushed under his foot and body twisting to leave. 
> 
> His walkman says nothing.

Old man Merrill has a pumpkin patch in Hawkins almost the size of a football field. They're all rotten, mold bleeding around each, the surface a breeding ground for insects that buzzed around. It's a shitshow, with lines of vines and debris it's a wonder the man continues to own the field. 

Billy stands among the field, one hand holding his walkman and the other holding a cigarette like a lifeline. Placing the cigarette in his mouth, he pushes the headset off one of his ears careful to listen around for anyone who could spot him. The walkman in his hand had been playing Apple Peaches Pumpkin Pie for the last few hours, pausing and rewinding to repeat 'pumpkin' every few minutes. 

In between the sound of Jay & The Techniques came Clarence Carter's belting out of 'Patches.' It wasn't hard to join together the two meanings and in no time he was breaking into some old man's pumpkin patch without a plan and with no clear idea what was going on. 

He'd walked around for a while before the walkman clicked sporadically as if rushing to stop him in his place. It's a garbled mess of noise and he can't make anything out clearly before it shuts off completely. He swears, steps back a little, then a little further before the sound picks up again. 

When Clarence Carter's Patches starts back up he's done with everything, cigarette crushed under his foot and body twisting to leave. 

His walkman says nothing. 

▁

He's been odd recently, Billy that is. Max looked over to him in thought remembering what Lucas had spoken to her about. Billy had always been angry, a ball of condensed anger just waiting to snap, and although they had some sort of understanding it didn't stop either of them from being bitter. Max bitter over having to leave her father behind in California and Billy over his mom leaving them back in California. 

California was a problem for Susan and Neil. 

So like all problems and pests they packed up and moved as far as they could. Max doesn't want to believe Lucas but she's not stupid. Billy had been saying that his cassette player was broken but it had been broken for days now. Billy would never let his car have a single flaw, too attached to it for something like that to continue for more than a day at most, so why was it still broken?

It was like it was talking to him, the car that is. Speaking in odd broken-up sentences and alluding to things that she thinks Billy understands but she has no idea of. She keeps Lucas' words in the back of her mind and the issue with Billy beside it, not bothering with it until that day.

November 4th is bland at most, it's a Sunday so school isn't a thing until the next day. Billy's locked up in his room again and Neil is drunk with cans of beer at his feet, not even her mom notices when she heads out to meet Lucas. It's stupid but something really weird was starting to make sense about everything, Lucas' story and the way that Billy's car never stopped repeating the words 'Upside down' or the way it seemed like it was trying to communicate. 

It was all stupid but she didn't know what else to think. 

Then, it all starts making sense. 

"Holy fuck," She watched the deformed bodies walk away, "Not bears, they're really not bears."

"I told you," Lucas sings while Dustin peers out to make sure they're still not lingering around. 

"I think they got called away," He calls out to them, eyes narrowed in concentration his brows following the action. 

Lucas shook his head and walked closer to Dustin, Max trailing behind him, "But where?"

Dustin shrugged, "The upside down? I don't know."

It was like one of those sudden realization moments she's read about in books. Max looked to the two, a hesitant moment separating her from actually saying anything to the two. She wouldn't sound crazy to them, not like how she had called Lucas crazy for telling her the truth. 

"Hey," She started and when they spun to her she cleared her throat in discomfort, "That upside-down thing, how many people know about it?"

Lucas turned and frowned in thought, "Other than the party and Hawkins lab? Not many, why?"

"Billy," She starts and shuffles to hold herself, "He uh―has been weird lately, not in the usual dick way and his car's been acting up a lot, this one time it kept repeating 'upside down' the whole ride back to Neil's."

Dustin perks up in interest, dropping his flashlight towards the ground, "What are you getting at?"

"It's just weird okay," She snapped pulling more into herself. "He hasn't got it fixed in days and the thing always seems like it's―I can't believe I'm saying this out loud―talking."

Dustin, always one for the odd things in life, grins, "What's it say?"

"Other than the 'upside down' bit?" He nods so she continues, "Plays this song by Alice Cooper called 'Steven' only reason I know about it cause Billy snuck out to see them this one time. After that it plays this song that goes 'look for me, you'll be looking for me.'"

Dustin's eyes blow wide like he's come to a full understanding and it confuses her, even more, when he shares a knowing look with Lucas. 

"It's totally―"

Lucas cuts in, "You really think―"

Dustin nods, "Bet my entire star wars collectible collection on this."

She gives an irritated glare, "What are you dwebs talking about?"

Dustin gives a wolfish grin, "Steve Harrington."

▁

He'd had a bitch of a day, hell probably a bitch of a year if it kept on going until January hit. If he didn't manage to get Max back to Neil's place in time then it would just get worse, no doubt he'd have a new set of bruises littered around his skin like an ugly art piece. It was getting exhausting to excuse them as him being in fights, and wondered when someone would realize that his knuckles were never bloody or bruised like they should have been. 

His car kicked when his foot shoved harshly against the gas, giving no time for Mrs. Wheeler to keep her eyes on him. The only useful thing that came out of sweet-talking her was that she gave him the place where Max would no doubt be at. It wasn't a long drive, the Byers' house coming into view from what little light the streets offered. 

He let his car rumble, the sound so loud it would give Max a sign that it was him. It's only when two minutes go by without her stepping out and the silence surrounding his car that his anger grows. 

"Nothing to say?" His eyes darkened previous anger from being lead to the pumpkin patch and the silent car bubbling together with the understanding that he'd walk home and probably get beat half to death. 

His car remained silent. 

He didn't think much before he was storming over to the door, his car left running in the dark, "Maxine, you little bitch!"

He wasn't stupid, he could hear the murmurs of small voices behind the door the words 'hide' 'Max' and 'shit it's Billy' spilling outside. They keep it going for another minute before Max opens the door to stare at him. Her eyes are blown wide and she's gripping the door harshly in her grasp. 

"Billy," She started but he pushed through glowering at her from the motion she made to back away. 

"Don't 'Billy'" He mocked the high pitch of her voice, "Me, shitbird. The fuck are you doing here around a bunch of pubescent dwebs and not back at Neils?"

She pushed her head down, staring at the ground and not at the bruises littering his face, "Something came up."

"You're lying." He took another heavy step towards her before a voice cut him off.

"Hey!" His head swerved around to stare at one of the kids. The kid who'd called out to him squeaked and hid behind his hands, "Leave her alone..?"

He barked out a laugh, "Sinclair, is that you?"

"Billy," Something in the way her tone shifted made him snap his eyes over to her. "Please."

"You think I'm just going to―"

"Steve!" She yelled out before slapping a hand over her mouth and then said in a quieter tone, "Steve Harrington. I know you understand me, Billy. I'm not that dumb, your car being broken for more than a day? And then the thing with the Upside Down stuff."

He pulled in his furious expression, trying to pull himself together before he ended up acting more like Neil than he ever wanted to, "Keep out of my shit, Maxine."

"No!" She bit back her own expression turning angry knowing that the others were watching them, "I won't Billy. They know where it is, Dustin thinks Steve is there in that Upside Down place. Thinks that he's been getting through to you and that's why your car is like that. You have to listen to m―"

He dropped his tense shoulders and sneered, "I know."

"You know?" The kid who was probably Dustin echoed his words.

"He told me, I know." He settled and scoffed, "Harrington likes to talk."

In the distance where he'd parked his car, the radio started suddenly but he hardly flinched like the kids did when Alice Cooper belted out the familiar lyrics of Steven.

"This is totally tubular," Dustin breathed while Cooper sounded off into the night. 

"Is someone calling me?" An intake of breath, "Steven!"


	4. A Thousand Versions of You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He'd seen the awards and trophies, had seen the notebooks and textbooks hidden away, seen the way he'd pull back from fully engaging in a conversation. Fuck Nancy, she really wasn't shit.

There's not much time. He shoved the bulky walkman out and onto the floor, not bothering to be delicate with the motion. There's never enough time. 

It's been five minutes since he'd turned his car off unfazed by the yelling kids behind him, there was no way he was going to let his gas die out just so some ghost Harrington could be an annoying shit. The one with the bushy set of curls, Dustin, won't stop correcting him when he said the word 'ghost' so sure that Harrington is alive while the other kids just look uncomfortable. 

Dustin poked the walkman with a stick, "How does this work?" 

Billy leaned back into the couch sneering in between a half-finished cigarette, absentminded to the effects of secondhand smoke, "The fuck would I know?"

"I thought you were supposed to be the ghost whisperer?" Wheeler snapped dropping to the floor so he could also watch. 

Dustin intervened from where he sat, still poking. "Not a ghost remember? This is intergalactic communication, upside down to right side up. The voyage into the great unknown. Our target mission? To uncover the secrets that lie within, some of us might die," Mike gave an offended cry at Dustin's look, "And some of us might lose some limbs," Lucas hit him across the arm when his gaze fell on him. "Ouch! shit, anyways―"

"―B-B-Baby you just ain't seen nothing yet!"

His jaw fell giving an accusing look to Billy who ignored him completely, "Did you do that?"

"Dustin," Lucas trailed off hearing the walkman wirr and click as if setting up to play something else, "Dude, look the hell back!"

Black Diamond by KISS echoed through the headset, volume so loud it spilled clearly out of them, "Darkness will fall over the city―"

"―So baby hold onto me," Eddie Money cut in.

"It doesn't make sense," Mike deadpanned glaring at Billy, "Why doesn't it make sense?"

"Keep up with the attitude and I'll beat your fa―"

Before he could finish his sentence Tunnel of Love cut in, slower than Eddie Money but every time it came to the point where they sang out Tunnel of Love it cut, rewinded itself, and repeated 'tunnel.'

"Tunnel..." Dustin murmured out, a finger placed on his chin in thought before it finally clicked, "Harrington, you absolute genius!"

"What is he talking about?" Max groaned rubbing her head, spending the whole day dealing with weird monsters and the group of friends was getting to her. 

"You simpletons would never get it," Dustin waved off with a scuff standing to make his way over to an empty petrol bin, "Steve, now that man is pure genius, you'd never compare."

Mike rolled his eyes and stood to follow his friend, "Nancy used to call him an idiot, so I doubt it."

"Nancy _is_ the idiot, Mike." 

He furrowed his brows wondering if he should be offended over what Dustin said. After a second he shrugged and took some things Dustin was handing to him before taking it towards the others, "Not going to agree or deny, kind of like my head on my shoulders."

"What's virgin mary gonna do to you? Scold you to death?" Billy snorted lifting his shoulders and slouching his body closer towards the walkman.

Mike gave him a leveled stare, "She has a gun."

He gave him an equally deadpanned look as if the idea of Nancy Wheeler and a gun changed nothing. It didn't matter if she could use it or even had one, Nancy Wheeler was annoying and he'd made it his personal goal to avoid that annoyance for a lifetime. Wasn't his problem if she shot her brother, they could deal with that in family therapy next to Mrs. Wheeler's need to cheat with every male that breathed. 

He snorted out loud. 

"So, here's the plan," Dustin kneeled on the ground and waved his hands around. "We go to the tunnels and burn it down."

"Where's the rest of the plan?" Lucas asked tossing around the lighter Dustin had brought over.

"That's it." He shrugged, "We'll go to the tunnel and set it on fire, they don't like heat, we've got a lot of it. As soon as that's done the hub will get disturbed. Look, it's the intersection, right? If the intersection get's burned down then the demodogs won't have a way of easily getting around. Anyways it'll get them away from El and Hopper."

For a moment, Lucas opened his mouth, shut it, and then opened it again. Before he could get anything out Mike shoved his way next to across from Dustin. The walkman had been silent for a while, soft static sounds popping in and out occasionally but nothing notably important. 

"Dustin," Mike called out slowly. "How do we know he's not...you know, like Will?"

"You mean flayed?" Dustin snorted and then shrugged, "We don't know but burning the tunnels is a good idea, dangerous or not." 

"That's the mind control thing?" Max murmured looking from the quiet walkman and then over to her silent step-brother.

"Sort of," Lucas replied. "But it's a little more complicated than that."

No one really spoke at that point, all too busy gathering and collecting their thoughts. They all were aware of the risks, the tunnels being a hub meant that it was the central spot for the demodogs, where the mind flayer communicated and used them to run all along Hawkins unseen. 

There wasn't much time. Billy breathed out, he'd think about the beating he'll get later, his eyes stuck onto the walkman and its small static clicks. He wondered pensively, what if everything concluded and there really wasn't a Steve Harrington behind everything, or if that odd Mind Flayer was behind it all. 

Hell, if they went down there and saw the mangled remains of Harrington it would all be for nothing. Living in an abyss like that for six months seemed impossible, even more, if he'd made his way into the Upside Down and not only the connecting tunnels. 

It just didn't make sense.

"Billy, you're driving."

He hid his grimace and stood up to face Max, "If I die, you don't get my shit, burn it all."

Ohio Players Fire cackled from behind, "Fire! The way you walk and talk really sets me off!"

Dustin snickered as he walked away, mumbling to himself, "He's flirting, if that's not Steve I'll definitely give up my star wars collectibles."

▁

Fate is dumb. Fate is something that hangs above people's heads to give them a sense that things can happen as a plotline of destiny. Destiny is equally as horrendous, a promise of divinity, things to be written in the stars, a situation that is unavoidable no matter what you do to stop it. 

Dustin had spent as much time as he could trying to look, around corners, at decaying slabs of melting animal flesh that bubbled like some kind of bad infection. There was no luck in calling out, molted piles of demodog skin laid in heaps all around them the slightest bit of sound would have set hoards of demodogs running towards them. 

He tries not to flinch when he holds the lighter out to Billy behind red eyes, not red because of the spores falling―his bug-eyed goggles prevented that from happening―but red from a stinging frustration. Billy hesitates, Dustin's not sure if everyone else noticed or just him but he did hesitate. He has the headset of the walkman strapped to his ears even if Steve hadn't said anything for almost an hour and Dustin doesn't think Steve will say anything even right now. 

It's kind of beautiful how the mounds of flesh, blood, mold, and demodog skin lit up so feverishly. They can't stick around for long, the flames overtake the tunnel and the screams of baby demodogs ring out sounding too close. Whatever Eleven and Hopper were doing must have been working since not many adult demodogs were trying to charge at them, it was only the flames and vines they had to avoid. 

"Steve," He wondered if in one of those vast long tunnels he was there but then again it wouldn't make sense. 

His foot crunched against the skull of a small deer and he winced, that was the problem with everything, nothing was making sense. Steve couldn't have been in the tunnels, how would he be communicating to Billy while stuck in a tunnel?

Electricity worked in the Upside Down, maintained by Hawkins lab workers that made rounds there to keep the system active. He gritted his teeth, which meant that Steve had to have been in the Upside Down, not just the connecting tunnels. 

Flayed, Mike thought he could have been flayed, Lucas thought he could have been flayed. He doesn't really know what Max or Billy think of the prospect of him being under the Mind Flayers' watch but he's seen what it could do to a person, seen it ruin Will. 

But the way he caught snippets of the communication, it was too much like Steve to not hope. Steve used to tell him that being called dumb for almost all your life makes you start to really believe it. He'd hated it when Steve was with Nancy, Nancy who called him dumb and called his college paper shit. Steve wasn't dumb, he sniffed behind his mask and pushed out of the tunnels. 

He'd seen the awards and trophies, had seen the notebooks and textbooks hidden away, seen the way he'd pull back from fully engaging in a conversation. Fuck Nancy, she really wasn't shit. 

He caught sight of Billy, the older teen ripping off the mask and goggles before turning away from them, maybe Billy was as upset as he was. 

They'd just have to try again―

"The gate," Dustin breathed out loud enough for the others to hear, "El's closing the gate."

"Dustin," Lucas shook his head a crack in his voice.

"We have to do something," Max circled back from where she was standing watching Billy, "Can't we do something?"

Mike shook his head, his own equipment clutched tightly in his hands, "It's probably already done."

"Hey," Lucas tried to call out also looking to where Billy was storming off, "We should go. I'm sorry man but we should really go."

The ride back is quiet, Billy's hands refused to loosen their grip on the wheel even when his hands got an angry red and purple. No static exits the walkman, the car is quiet, and when Max hesitantly places an AC/DC cassette inside Flick of the Switch easily plays through the speakers. 

Even she feels a sting in her eyes. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and the plot thickens!


	5. The Road Not Taken

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> November 1983 comes and goes, December 1983 dancing along calmer than the previous month, and then, like an exposed wound left to fester for far too long, June rears its head. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ! hints of internalized homophobia and suicidal thoughts (not explicitly stated but heavily implied).

In hindsight, Steve Harrington was completely and inexplicably normal. A least as normal as he made himself out to be. _Man is the only creature who refuses to be what he is,_ after all _._

He liked to imagine that he was named after Alice Cooper's 1975 panic-inducing _Steven_ and not some sort of homage to his grandfather but as fate would have it being born in 1966 meant that he was named after a miserable old man with only one personality trait, anger. 

Steven Harrington Senior, a man who was esteemed, a fancy word for an annoyance that liked to boast about being an annoyance, taught his son one fundamental lesson―child neglect. 

If the police department were to ever question it there would be a series of convincingly spun words to steer away from that violent statement. So, no, to the Hawkins police department the Harrington's were not engaging in child neglect, they simply would never. 

Advanced placement classes were not something that Hawkins could offer so as a child he was usually subjected to private lessons where Hawkins failed to meet his parent's standards. At seven, Steven "Steve" Harrington thought he was doing pretty well for himself, his mother would visit some times to see his grades and praised him for it sometimes, and then, rarely more than anything, his father would be there. 

Somewhere along the line, perhaps at nine or ten, the visits stop. 

At around eleven the lessons stop and his need to appease those absent forms in his mind also stops. That's the thing with child neglect, somewhere along that dark line, Steve no longer saw them as parents just nuisances that liked to think they knew him. 

_Child neglect,_ Steve read in a published journal study when he was twelve, is not without its consequences. 

Among the drugs, alcohol, and sex he engaged in after he entered his teens, Steve wanted the one thing his parents never gave him, love. Drinking till he could feel his kidney's collapse didn't give him love, drugs made him think he had love and then there was sex, which made a hole dig in his heart larger than he ever thought possible. 

At seventeen, four years after his attempt at finding love, he thinks he's done it, _Nancy Wheeler._ She's good, sweet in all the right emotional places, delicate in the way she calls to him in the halls, careful in the way she kisses him. 

Then it gets sour, _an idiot_ she called him an idiot. Not like anyone else in the school omitted from calling him that but he'd thought she'd picked up on it. Steve isn't stupid, sure he'll play the game of idiocy, but had she really failed to look? She'd criticized him for being unable to have an awareness for things but really that was a projection of her own failures. 

Then Barbara, poor, innocent, Barbara. Steve played the part well, but Barbara was not something he had factored into the grand play of his life. She goes missing, but really, inevitably dead. 

Then it gets sour, again. Apparently, it's all his fault, and Nancy holding a gun to his head and shouting at him to 'Get out!' is justifiable. It's also apparent that Nancy and her brothers 'party' didn't seem to realize that the Upside Down had always been there, been there since the 1800s, been there since 1848 when Phineas Gage was struck through the head with a metal rod and survived. 

Since 1978, when Steve had to explain to his nanny why his Grandfather's corpse was strung across the patio of his backyard, blood dripping calmly into the large pool and tainting it a pretty pink. 

It's not very believable to say that a petal-faced creature ripped into Steven Harrington Senior like a medium-rare steak plus Steve didn't really care about the old man. It would also be hard to explain why that large petal monster didn't attack him and instead chose to rip into the face of Steven Senior, it would have been really hard. 

November 1983 comes and goes, December 1983 dancing along calmer than the previous month, and then, like an exposed wound left to fester for far too long, June rears its head. 

▁

He hates the soft flesh, the long hair, pressed manicures that dug into his hair, dug into his back. Hates it all more than he thinks he could ever hate anything else, but in hate, he's able to find some sort of an escape. 

It's annoying how temporary that escape tends to be, and then he's chasing alcohol like some kind of morbid performance of his deadbeat father. No, he's not sad, he's really not. 

He's not frustrated. He's not angry, he's not upset, he's not any of those cycles of negative whirlwind emotions that always make you feel like you're getting strangled. Really the person strangling you ends up being yourself but that was a technicality of the thing. 

He doesn't remember the last time he's ever felt like this, maybe it was when his mother had left him? or maybe it was when he was forced to leave California, leave the only place his mother would be able to find him?

Fuck, maybe he was dying. That had to be it, it didn't make sense how he could feel this messed up and not be dying.

He raised an unsteady hand to his heart, brushed past the familiar necklace, and felt his heartbeat. Regrettably, still alive. Unlike his hand, his heart was steady and thumped with life, something he really didn't think he felt. 

"What are you waiting for?" He turned and glared at the brunette by his side, "Book it, dollface."

It was too bad that the method of escape involved women, the soft type of flesh under his hands and the curves felt all wrong. Didn't give him the same type of reaction Joshua from his eighth-grade class use to drone on and on about. But he had to like girls, it was irritating, but he had to. 

He sighed a little at the tension in his neck before twisting to pluck a cigarette off his nightstand. Luckily his hand didn't shake much when it came to lighting the cigarette and he didn't have much trouble fixing the lighter back on the nightstand. 

He pulled his pants on next, ignoring the shirt that laid too far away for his limbs to stretch over to. He didn't even bother to get back up and move around, throwing himself back on his bed just seemed like the better idea. Anyways Susan was gone and Neil wouldn't be back until afternoon the next day.

"You look like shit," Max crossed her hands over her chest, dressed to go out in the blaring heat. 

Right, Billy mused, it wasn't November anymore, wasn't even 1984. It was a boiling hot day in April 1985. 

It's been an odd five months since then, kind of like an uncomfortable silence that settled around everything but refused to be forgotten. Sometimes Billy catches himself staring at his walkman for an hour, or lets his car stay silent in hopes that a familiar clicking sound would ring out. 

Nothing ever does. 

He'd taken everything relatively okay, hadn't acted out in anger to anyone really, at least anyone that wasn't himself. He'd gotten invested in Harrington, that was his first mistake. That he'd fallen into some sick twisted ghost shit game and came out winning nothing. 

Billy spat, head pressed firmly to his pillow, "No one forcing you to look, bitch."

"So you agree," The little brat raised a brow, "You think you look like shit?"

His pride wouldn't let him answer that so he just laid there waiting for either his smoke to finish or Max to disappear to her little band of idiot friends. His head hurt, he suddenly realized, it hurt a lot. 

"Billy," She called out for him, stupid feet shuffling into his room instead of outside the door as she should have. "Hey, dick."

There goes his cigarette, idly he wondered if he should light another one. Just as he was going to she swung around to his side of the bed clearly ignoring all those times he'd forced her out. That was the thing about Maxine Mayfield, she was a redhead through and through, like a little devil sans scary and more of a nuisance. 

"Fuck off, shitbird, and no, I'm not gonna drive your ass around." She rolled her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest, looking at him like he was some kind of depressing teen―he wasn't.

He'll bury himself in booze and sex all he wants, even if it made him sick, and no pubescent teen step-sister is going to convince him otherwise. 

"I didn't even ask that," She unfolded her arms and swung them at her side. "Dustin wanted to know if there's been any―you know―since last time?"

He glared a bit at the wall, eyes hazy, "No."

Her shoulders dropped and she turned away from him, "Oh."

She'd started walking away, little sounds emphasizing the way she was walking away towards whatever thing her friends had got her to go to. It's been like that for some time, Dustin asking if Billy's heard anything since that day back in November '84. Obviously, the answer would be no but Billy thinks the kid is just hopeful of any crack, any type of way that Steve could communicate. 

Maybe if they'd gotten to him sooner. Maybe if he hadn't waited that long to make it all known, if he'd mentioned it after the first or second day. 

Maybe it would all be different.

▁

Nancy starts another one of their long fights. It starts with the way he's been busy with college applications, then molds into a 'you never have time for me' then twists into 'do you even _remember_ Barb?' 

He's really going to snap one day, just kick in the bucket and say what the hell, because really who could deal with Nancy Wheeler. Maybe Jonathan Byers. Anyways, he really should do something about it. Refusing to stop her just meant that he had to sit through her yelling until she eventually cried herself into giving up. 

Contrary to popular belief, he does have a plan for post-secondary and it's a wonderful plan that starts off with applying very, very far away from Hawkins and never coming back. He doesn't have good grades, years of failing to apply himself insured that but he'd get around after doing one of those aptitude tests. Even then maybe he'd just hitch the next ride far out of the state and start up his own business, that sounded all kinds of amazing. 

He huffed a small laugh and walked a bit further down the path to his house, hands shoved in his pockets while the sun dipped further in the sky. June 4th was a standard summer day, long days and short nights made for nothing out of the ordinary. If anything there was a large number of ravens in Hawkins, more than the usual small flock or two. 

Loch Nora was covered in them, crying all around like there was a mass funeral. Small bodies littered the million-dollar houses in the area, beady eyes watching like they were waiting for the moment they could be sent off. Steve thought they were kind of beautiful.

A soft chime came from somewhere behind him, "Hello, Steven." 

He looked up in surprise, even stopped in place from walking any further. Mrs. O'Leary sat on her porch, old shaking fingers dancing along a small weed in her hand that prickled with small thorns. He tried to remember if Mrs. O'Leary had ever said hello to him, or even knew his name, hell if she'd called him Steve he would have brushed it off, but _Steven_? No one ever called him Steven. 

He pinched his brows together and blinked slowly, "Mrs. O'Leary, hello? How's Charlie?"

Large and dark, almost black eyes, refused to leave him and her hand kept dancing along that wound-inducing weed, "Ah, yes. The cat. He's well, deary."

Was that blood? In the little speckles on her clothing and licking the hem of her pants, wasn't that blood?

He clenched his fist, it was. 

▁

"Listen, I'm just saying it's _possible_ ―I don't need your negativity Mike―hear me out, guys."

"Dustin," Lucas raised his head from where he sat next to Max, "We've been hearing you out for five months, what more is there?"

"Yeah sure," He snorted. "'Hearing,' you guys never listen to me."

"I do," Max called out a little offended that he thought she didn't pay attention, "I even asked Billy again."

He gave her a look, even the others in the room did but she shook her head and gave a weak shrug, "He said there's still nothing, not a single thing."

"Man," Lucas got Dustin to look at him, "If you keep getting Max to ask her psycho brother he might actually kill her _and_ us."

"Lucas," She snapped. "Don't call him that."

"Can you all stop? I thought we were going to do something fun, you know, not depressing?"

Will snapped his eyes to Mike, wide-eyed and mouth slightly open, "Mike! That was rude."

Mike turned his eyes away and muttered in Eleven's direction, "Was the truth though..."

Dustin stood suddenly, little pieces of D'n'D scattering around him at the harsh movement. No one breathed a word, completely locked in on the harsh glare Dustin was giving Mike and the returned stare Mike wasn't holding back. It's been the same repeated pattern since El had closed the gate back in November, where Dustin would rant out any possibility he could think of, where no one would really pay attention to him―well maybe Max tried. 

"Hey," Will started off slowly, ever the peacekeeper between them all, "We don't even really know what happened last year in June, no one really knows. We can't just say there's no chance, you know that Mike."

"Well we know he was taken. How the hell would anyone survive that long there? Dustin," He turned to his long-time friend. "Be honest with yourself. That whole Billy thing has been dead since November, there really can't be anything there anymore."

"Of course there wouldn't!" He was gripping his hair, hat knocked off his head carelessly on the floor, "She closed the gate!"

Mike pushed him back, his body thudding into the chair behind him but he didn't go crashing into the ground, "She did what she had to do!"

▁

Two years ago Queen released a song called Life is Real as a tribute for John Lennon who died back in '80. He remembered listening to it a while ago and kind of zoning out from everything when the first chord had come into existence. He thinks the greatest honour is dedication, dedicating a book, a poem, a song, a memory, to someone who was taken away too soon. 

He has their tape hidden away somewhere, next to his collection of Alice Cooper and hidden amongst other quietly kept pieces of his life. The greatest thing he's ever known is music. 

He's not going to admit to listening to Queen among other things in his life, some things are better kept a secret. He's not like Freddie Mercury, he can't be like Freddie Mercury. 

By the time he gets to his house he's almost forgotten about Mrs. O'Leary's blood-splattered clothing, or the odd way she referred to her cat Charlie, or even the way she was caressing a weed pulled from the ground. The sun's gone by now, darkened skies reflecting the light that danced off of his pool. It's kind of mystifying, the way he's caught just staring at the spot he vividly remembered his grandfather's body being dropped along, almost like he could still remember the small dribbles of blood leaking into the pool. 

That image blurs in with one of Barbara Holland. 

He scratches at his cheek in discomfort, moving to shut the lights that illuminated that hell. He's almost there, hand placed delicately atop the light switch when he sees it, a flash of a dark shadow darting across and crouching low to the search. It's weird how undisturbed he is by the sight of it, just standing there almost like it was watching him with those nonexistent eyes. 

"Oh," His throat closed up, hand twisting into a clenched fist next to the light switch. 

Then it wailed, like a collection of suffering bubbled out to the surface and that could no longer be held back. 


End file.
